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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664526">The Solstice Problem</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall'>misreall</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>An Arrangement [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure &amp; Romance, Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Dancing, F/M, Flirting, Hand Feeding, Kissing, Magic, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Running Away, Vaginal Sex, Winter Solstice, Witchcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:36:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,574</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and Nye have fled their families and under assumed names are studying witchcraft with mixed results.  Now, the winter solstice is approaching and they have to work together, if Nye likes it or not.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>An Arrangement [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>134</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Drawing Attention At the Wrong Time is Loki's Art</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A sequel to Unceremonious  - https://archiveofourown.org/works/26047498</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The library of the Hekhus of VeForêt on the very farthest inhabited world of Vanaheim was a tangled mess of bookcases, tables, scrolls, and desks.  Within its high, wood-paneled walls, and on its uncountable shelves, were texts containing more wonders, mysteries, curses, blessings, sagas, philosophies, and even recipes than could be read in any lifetime, perhaps even that of a Celestial.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though there was one that was trying.  She had lived in the library for over a thousand years and showed no signs of leaving.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Along with printed works, handwritten grimoires from long-dead, legendary witches crammed cases to the bursting point, as did diaries, notebooks, and even unbound pages held together by magic or string.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A massive hydrangea, adapted by generations of witches, coiled and swagged gracefully from the walls and shelves, scenting the air and devouring anything that might attempt to steal any of the books.  A slinky, standoffish clowder of cats lived in the rafters, making certain that no unwelcome creatures found their way in and a pretty family of rats made their home beneath the floorboards, doing the same with any insects.  Together they ensured that any dropped food disappeared before it could spoil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were comfortable chairs and old desks and private cubbies for those who wished to study unobserved, as well as corners with pillows thrown on the floor for those who found sitting upright a burden.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anything one could wish for a day of studious intent or idle reading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Other than lamps.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only light came from a very high, rather dingy skylight that offered little brightness even on the sunniest morning. Indeed, much of the time it was dank and after dark or a gloomy day, those who wished to study there had to produce their own illumination.  Those who could not were considered unworthy of any knowledge they might seek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Currently, however, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the Great Coven was there to speak to the current ‘class’ - a term the witches did not care for as it smacked of wizardry at best and alchemy at worst but no one could think of anything else that didn’t sound even sillier - of acolytes so the room glowed a pleasant gold.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mistress Havith was a dark elf and so old that she even showed some evidence of that age, with deep, curving lines about her mouth and a few dark hairs growing in her white braid.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gharcun</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Julblot</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the witch’s eyes cut to where Loki sat, as if recognizing him as a Jotnar despite his appearing to be Asgardian, “the Longest Night, the Brief Sun, the Solstice.  No matter what world, from multifarious Midgard to even Muspelheim where the fire giants tremble and placate their gods on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Köldeld</span>
  </em>
  <span>, all worlds in some way mark the moment when darkness endures and the light is shortest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dear Ardala, did she reeeeally just say ‘multifarious Midgard’?” Loki idly asked Nye, pointedly using the name she was using at the Hekhus, since she had been very annoyed with him for calling her ‘Nye’ publicly on more than one occasion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat in front of him and he had to lean very far forward to whisper not at all quietly at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she ignored him, as she always did of late, he leaned back and stretched lavishly, long limbs taking up too much room as his legs bracketed her chair, earning him dirty looks from other students - acolytes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were thirty-one acolytes - the witch’s preferred term - living in the Hekhus on </span>
  <span>VeForêt</span>
  <span>.  There were always thirty-one, any other number being proscribed.  Though no one could remember exactly why.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had only been because of the peculiar, fortunate, and rather mysteriously very last-minute absence of a young, allegedly very gifted practitioner from Nidavellir that Loki had been allowed entry to the current decade’s ranks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Many of the rest of his fellow acolytes firmly wished the witches had decided to make an exception and agreed that thirty was a perfectly fine number.  None more so than Nye.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who currently was ignoring him, not even bothering to hiss a whisper of ‘shut up,’ back at him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh,” he near snorted, settling back with crossed arms to listen to the Queen of the Witches or whatever her title was go on about the importance of the Solstice, giving exactly no information that everyone in attendance did not already know.  Granted, most of his new school chums were deficient in what he considered rudimentary magical gifts, but absolutely every one of them could tell you anything you really weren’t sure you wanted to know about the phases of whatever moon they happened to be under, the wondrous properties of every, single weed unfortunate enough to get ripped up by the roots by them, and how to rhythmically chant in a great many dead languages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the politics of dancing naked under the right one of those moon phases while intoxicated by some of those roots and chanting in a few of those dead languages at once.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last of which, Loki admitted, could be amusing</span>
  <em>
    <span> if </span>
  </em>
  <span>you did without the chanting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of that said, the acolytes thus knew all about the various solstices and equinoxes.  Loki crossed his arms and lowered his head, letting his eyes close.  The Witchiest Witch liked the sound of her own voice so they were bound to be there for a bit and he always found it easy to sleep when someone was lecturing him since he was an even tinier giant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye, meanwhile, took notes.  Not because she didn’t know everything the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach </span>
  </em>
  <span>was saying or probably going to say already but because she needed something to do with her hands, otherwise the temptation to grab anything off of one of the crowded shelves and wing it at Loki’s head would be too great to resist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would catch it before it hit him, of course, which would just make her angrier with him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it was, she looked down at his foot next to her chair, angled one of her booted feet, lifted a knee, and drove her heel down on the bridge of his shoe as hard as she could.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only was his body Asgardian in appearance now, but it was also as impervious as one of those stupid gods as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he made a slightly disgruntled, sleepy noise and shifted behind her.  “Did something interesting happen?” he asked the acolyte next to him.  When they didn’t answer he stretched again, his chair sliding easily forward so he was now able to lean his forearms on the back of her’s, his knees pressed against its arms.  Propping his chin on them, she could now feel his breath stirring the hairs that had come loose from her braid.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shudder rippled down her spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could cast an illusion of us sitting here, attentive and studious, and we could leave.”  This time he did whisper, playing with the end of her braid, tickling his own nose with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye reached back and yanked her own hair hard enough to hurt to get it out of his hand.  “No.  Or rather, you go, leave the whole world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment she could feel him go stiff and chill behind her, then he moved closer, his voice a purr in her ear, “And if I should be found by our madly searching parents how long do you think it would be before they found you in this little hidey-hole, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nydelig</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying a great </span>
  <em>
    <span>master</span>
  </em>
  <span> of </span>
  <em>
    <span>magics</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t stay hidden in an entire universe?” she said louder than she wanted, turning to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were very close, so close she was a little worried his long lashes would tangle in her own.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That close, close at all, to Loki, was what she had gone out of her way to avoid since they had shared the uncomfortably small ley train to the Hekhus nearly a year before.  After he had made what ended up being a rather lazy attempt to seduce her in the carriage, and then shrugged and read the rest of the way she had thought that would be the end of their doings together, other than those that would be unavoidable as acolytes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first several months that seemed to be his plan as well.  Loki disappeared into life at the Hekhus as effortlessly as he switched forms.  Dressed in the narrow black trousers and long black coat of an acolyte, with a perfect bit of white cuff showing, his shoes polished to a mirror gleam, and his neckcloth perfectly tied he was quite a lot more elegant than most of the rest of the acolytes - witches were a notoriously scruffy lot.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Nye was especially looking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stalked through the halls, his hair perfect, heavy books tucked effortlessly under an arm, a look of determination on his face at all times, as if he were planning to master witchcraft by will alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the acolytes and most of the witches were dazzled by his looks and his talent, his brightness and darkness, and mostly his magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all his magical skills</span>
  <em>
    <span> were </span>
  </em>
  <span>dazzling.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just not very witchy.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki’s innate powers were impressive but they lacked the elements of connection to the forces of nature and the spirit that was the hallmark of witchcraft.  Rather, he seemed to be drawing on the raw, chaotic stew that the universe itself was formed out of.  Which was terrifying and rather exciting and meant that he very quickly mastered most of witchcraft and then grew bored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or so he claimed.  It seemed to Nye that he was more frustrated than bored by those few areas of witchery that eluded him, such as most healing work, and dream spells.  Or what he called first aid and mental self-indulgence featuring ‘a handful of leaves and some poorly metered posey.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who wanted to waste their time being shown how to cajole a tree into telling you the history of the forest it grew in when you could create a perfect duplicate of yourself to sit in on the lesson whilst you went and got drunk fishing elsewhere in the forest or snuck back to the library to read from the forbidden shelves?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As far as Nye could tell the only thing keeping Loki in the Hekhus was the need to stay concealed by the elaborate spells that the witches of old had to protect themselves and his desire to see if he could beat the Celestial in reading the entirety of the library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And annoying Nye.  He seemed to like that most of all.  Sitting near her during discussions and classes, correcting her work or the instructors, flirting with anyone that might sit with her at mealtimes since she had told him to stop trying to flirt with her, and generally doing anything he could to distract her from what she was supposed to be doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki raised a finger, smirking at her, “Your family is the one with Asgardian connections.  I could hide from Jotunheimr if my father’s idiot guards and I were locked in a closet together, but if the All-Mother decides she wants to know where Prince Frost Least Giant has stolen her favorite niece away to, that might cause me some trouble.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A number of the acolytes were now watching them instead of Her Witchiness.  There were a variety of rumors amongst them, and the witches themselves, as to what the connection between the two of them was.  Loki had a few personal favorites, such as he was Odin’s illegitimate child and Nye was his Midgardian lover.  Nye hated most of the stories, though admitted the one that claimed Loki was secretly a fire giant was rather funny.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowned at him, and he noted that there were several freckles on the apple of her cheek that he has missed befor</span>
  <em>
    <span>e.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Somehow.  “That isn’t wh-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent,” the</span>
  <em>
    <span> Seanchailleach </span>
  </em>
  <span>said with an abrupt clap of her hands that made everyone other than Loki jump and face forward.  He laughed quietly, looking at Nye’s now falsely composed expression, until he heard, “I am so glad that Hveðrungr and Ardala have decided to put their differences aside and volunteer to design this year’s ceremony for the solstice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hearing both of their aliases, Loki saw the look on Nye’s face go from calm to hilariously irked in less than a blink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I cannot even understand why they haven’t asked you to leave!  You treat everything here with nothing but contempt!” Nye raged, the hem of her long coat twitching and swishing as she paced before him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That she was able to pace in her small, rather crowded room was quite impressive, Loki thought.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not everything,” he corrected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned and glared at him, “Fine, everything other than the library.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was not what he had meant, but he let her believe it was.  “The witches are … intrigued by me.  They cannot make head nor tails of my power, so they are studying me, rather than my studying their ways.  And despite my contempt, the food is quite good, the library, as you mentioned, excellent and you would be so lonely if I left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave her a look of great earnestness that looked ridiculous on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha!  Move!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki had sprawled across her not very large bed as she paced, his feet propped on the footboard so he did not have to remove his shoes.  “There is a chair,” he said, waving a limp hand toward her desk.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a dreadful hostess.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, he swung his legs over and stood, far too close to her and then took a step around and sprawled not quite as comfortably on the desk chair.  “None of which changes that we must come up with a ceremony idea or </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> may be asked to leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The unfairness of which astounded Nye.  Her mild - alright, her loud objection to be forced to work with Hveðrungr on the solstice ceremony whilst Loki stood making a great show of stoicism in the face of her rudeness had not done anything to impress the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach,</span>
  </em>
  <span> which was something she very much needed to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike Loki, her studies had not been going very well.  While he mastered ten years of work in less than one she was struggling.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her potions were sticky and ineffective.  Her gardening skills were lackluster.  Her understanding of animal speech and astral projection were that all of the wolves and crows that lived on the grounds seemed fond of her and she one time thought she had made it as far as the edge of the river that ran beside the garden, but she had just fallen asleep and was sleepwalking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Made worse by the fact that if Loki hadn’t seen her, she probably would have fallen in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even the magic that she had learned to do on her own before arriving was not working right.  The letter she tried to send to her mother to assure her that she was safe fluttered sadly until it was batted down and eaten by one of the cats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it did not happen often, there was precedence for acolytes being sent away from the Hekhus. After it had been announced they would be in charge of the upcoming ritual one of her favorite instructors, an ancient and cranky witch named Ekki who taught a healing, one of the only skills Nye wasn’t dismal at, had cornered her in the hall and made it plain that the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach</span>
  </em>
  <span> was going to be watching her performance very closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is why she was going through working with Loki, hoping his abundant, no, lavish amounts of talent would see her through until she could get past whatever was blocking her own gifts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye ground her teeth and picked up another scroll from the messy pile on her bedside table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had been studying various lists of ways the solstice was celebrated throughout the Nine and had found nothing that was challenging, and magical, and rare enough to impress anyone.  The solstice was fun, most everyone liked it, but it wasn’t exciting.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bonfires and warm spiced wine and songs and maybe dancing all sounded perfectly lovely to Nye, but it wasn’t very witchy, or ceremonial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can do a line of bonfires down the river, and use a different kind of spell to light each one in progression, each in a different color, culminating in a massive one that burns like a rainbow?” she offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cute,” Loki said, turning a page.  “Not exactly a ceremony though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bit later he pointed at a page, “There are several cases where sacrific-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fell back into silence for hours of reading when Loki stood abruptly, slamming a book closed with a dark smile, making Nye jump.  “Do  you think you can work out the bonfire color spells yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” she asked suspiciously.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have something I need to look into, but I think I have a most … exciting idea, but it shall need further research.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye cocked her head and frowned up at him from where she lay on the bed, “Why do I feel like I’m going to hate whatever you have in mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bending over her, he gently drew a finger down her nose.  She fought not to shiver at that innocent touch, the first time he had touched her skin since they had arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Other than keeping her from stepping into the river.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you know me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, grabbing his coat from one of the hooks on her door he twirled into it, spinning on his heel and was gone.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Making it Yourself is Always Better</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things go nowhere, slowly</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki sighed and pushed his hair back with both hands.  “Perhaps another try?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye glared at him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than a mere glare, actually.  Loki had been glared at since his earliest days and this had more power than even the glares of his always so affectionate parents.  This was a look of pure poison and it took some effort on his part not to be rocked back on his heels by its force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was impressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A break, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, not speaking.  Her mouth was a thin, tight line.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he had known that mouth could be soft and sweet and hot, at the moment it looked as appealing as a troll’s hindquarters.  At least, if one were not a troll. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With another sigh, he sat down looking out at the softly falling snow, the red velvet of the cushions of the window seat sighing as well, which irritated Nye to no end.  “Could you stop making that sound?  It’s most annoying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you could cease to inspire it?” he said idly, not bothering to turn back towards her.  “What adorable flurries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a blizzard,” she snipped, crossing the room to kneel on the seat beside him, watching the coven’s herb garden disappear beneath the snow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to me.”  Though she refused to look at him, digging her fingers in a cushion until they turned white, she could </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> his smirk.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were silent for a while.  The snow muffled the sounds from outside, and the walls of the Hekhus were thick, so only their breathing and the crack of the fireplace on the opposite wall could be heard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hekhus was ancient, and the small, stone manor it had started as had been joined by three larger buildings, all of which had been built up and onto and over with the years, turning it into a warren of rooms and hallways.  There was the great hall, of course, the library, the kitchens, and all of the other public spaces where classes and lectures were held and then numberless extras.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye’s room was at the end of a short hallway that jutted, unsupported, out of the second floor of the largest building, attached only by a small door that led into a study hall, and Loki’s was in a sub-basement that was accessed by either a trapdoor in one of the stillrooms or by a long tunnel that ended in the forest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both rooms were too small for them to work in and neither of them wanted to use any of the public study halls.  Loki because he was by nature unstoppably secretive and sneaky, and Nye because she was miserably embarrassed by her own ineptitude.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his snooping around the ‘hus, which was what he did with most of his free time since he had given up on the idea he might have anything to learn from the classes, Loki had found the little room they were now using.  It had once been a bridge of sorts between two of the buildings that had later been covered, then made into a rather comfortable sitting room, with an Inglenook by the fire, thick, rag rugs, and a constant scent of cinnamon and fresh-cut lemons, and then had been accidentally sealed off.  A little muscle had popped open the wall and a little magic had turned the wall into a door that only they could see and thus they had a very private room for Nye to fail in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki cast an illusion so he appeared to be staring out of the window when in truth he had turned to look at her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every nerve in her body had been yanked tight, her sinews had turned to barbed wire, and her brain roiled with acid and dread.  For the fortnight they had worked together Nye had gone from being too serious to on the verge of a full breakdown as she had floundered to do even the simplest spellwork needed for the ceremony.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki simply could not understand it.  Nye had been a more than proficient magic worker, for the span of their friendsh-, correspondence.  For the span of their correspondence.  Indeed it had been the reason that not only had he trusted her - an unheard-of thing for him to do - with his plan for escaping his realm, but with her part in the plan.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her magic was delightful, witty, with a touch of both effortlessness and art.  Certainly she was not as gifted as he was, but that was not her fault.  No one was.  That said, Loki had </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoyed</span>
  </em>
  <span> every bit of Nye’s magic and their back and forth.  Gods help him, but it had been fun to trade spells with her.  And now…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now the same clever woman who had once sent a flock of geese that landed in front of him and turned into books for his birthday could barely summon enough </span>
  <em>
    <span>seidr</span>
  </em>
  <span> to light an oil lamp, let alone a timed series of multicolored bonfires.  What had been something funny to tease her about when he had assumed it had been a mystic hiccup due to her being away from home for the first time had become increasingly alarming.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever advice he had tried to offer had been rebuffed, which Loki did not blame her for, since he would certainly have done likewise, but matters were reaching a crisis.  If she could not prove to the silly witches who ran the school that she belonged here, Nye would be cast adrift.   Bright and brave though she was, she was unprepared for the roughness of the Realms outside of Vanaheim, and without seidr to protect her...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surreptitiously he cast yet another spell over her to scan for any outside interference with her and again found nothing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever was troubling Nye’s magic, it was from within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fact that Nye was painfully aware of and also trying not to let on.  It was bad enough that she could feel what must be, after the days of failed effort, pure contempt coming from Loki.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Seidr</span>
  </em>
  <span> had come easily to Nye, from the time she was a child.  Not without work but the pieces of a spell, be it one sent to her by her aunt Frigga as a treat, or one that she put together on her own, always felt right.  Like the pieces of a puzzle making a neat click as they were put in place.  From the way they fit in her mind to the comfort of them forming in her hands, every bit of them had been like a natural extension of herself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, it was as if that extension had been sawed almost all of the way through and barely hung on by a few scraps of flesh and gristle.  Agonising and useless.  The time working with Loki, for whom magic was possibly even easier than breathing, had only made matters worse.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at him as he watched the snow, his exquisite, pale profile outlined by his long, blacker than black hair, a look of contemplation furrowing his brow as he propped his slightly pointed chin on the heel of a graceful hand.  He was the picture of a kind of aristocratic elegance that had nothing to do with his Asgardian appearance or that of his true, Jotun self.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cocking his head slightly he looked at her, and deep in his eyes she could see a twinkle of Jotnar red.  “Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nydelig</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hot shudder that she fought to still ran through Nye, from the crest of her head to the soles of her feet, relaxing her shoulders for the first time in hours, as she had a sudden, visceral memory of their wedding ceremony.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
  <em>
    <span>he crouched, one hand on her belly to keep her still as he lapped between her legs, deep into her, his tongue cool, firm, and insistent.  Not sure how he could breathe, so deeply he seemed buried in her</span>
  </em>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That it had been him, and it had been her, surrounded by howling, cheering giants as they … mated, seemed now the most improbable thing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he blinked, the red was gone leaving his eyes deep green, with the slightest frown creased between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wondered, as she had wondered for months, which of the acolytes and of the witches he had bedded since they had arrived.  Sim, the master of the grimoires, certainly, he was too handsome for him not to have, and Panjal, who was the most gifted student of weather witching in a generation, they were lovely, too.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment Nye considered leaning over to kiss him, and how nice it might be if he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her down onto his lap.  Not precisely, to do anything more, but to only sit there with him a bit wrapped around her, to perhaps put her nose in his hair and hide her face, and be quiet for a time like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For that same moment Loki’s face was terribly soft.  Softer than she had ever seen it.  “Nye-” he reached towards her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hopped backward off of the bench, brushing the now wrinkled knees of her black trousers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should get back to work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loki resisted the urge to slouch.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not normally one for slouching.  Perfect posture was required of a prince, even one from a place like Jotunheimr where the highest attainment of nobility was having more rotting heads of your enemies decorating your hall than anyone else.  Since he had never been a head keeper - a head </span>
  <em>
    <span>taker</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  Yes, on any number of occasions but he had never kept any of the filthy things - Loki had made up for it by practicing a level physical attitude that was devastating in the scorn it displayed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or it would have been, anywhere other than Jotunheimr, where the subtle arts of contempt were never given their proper appreciation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he had not so perfectly resembled a pocket version of one of his maternal uncles he would have been certain he was adopted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That all being the case, there was something about standing before the</span>
  <em>
    <span> Seanchailleach</span>
  </em>
  <span> that made him so very desperately wish to slouch.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was her assumption of respect, and that her authority had some meaning for him when neither thing was true.  Oh, he had some respect for her talent, and her knowledge, but the woman herself was … dull.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dullness was the greatest sin in Loki’s mind.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More even than her dullness, the fact that she gave no evidence of recognizing him as a shapechanger meant she was far less mystically aware than she liked to pretend.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That said, until he decided it was time to move from the Hekhus, he needed to keep on her good side, so showing her a certain degree of deference was in line.  It was her house, after all.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have asked Ardala several times to come and let me know how progresses your plans, yet she always seems to be far too busy,” the offence in the woman’s voice was almost funny.  She frowned at Loki, her full mouth growing smaller and smaller, and her already deep brown skin flushing with irritation.  “I would have thought of the two of you, you would be the one less likely to make time for me, Hveðrungr.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing to say to that, so that was what he said.  They stared at each other.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he told her the truth, that Nye’s problem was keeping them from progressing there was little question the witches would have her gone as soon as they could bring in another acolyte to keep their numbers at thirty-one.  For some reason, the thought of her being asked to leave irked him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, Nye was his wife in the strictest sense of the term, so the witches were as beneath her as they were him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since I am sending out the invitations to the ceremony, the ceremony that will take place in two days if you need reminding, right at this moment it might be nice if I knew what the ceremony was going to be?” the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach </span>
  </em>
  <span>asked.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I can see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This very, very important ceremony that would be most embarrassing to have be a disappointment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not looking away from him, she picked up a pen and started to write out an elaborate series of sigil on a piece of leather, the ink was gold that flowed easily and then formed raised patterns which she then picked up and flung out of the window where they flew against the winter wind to those who would be the ‘hus’s guests for the Solstice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of the while her purple-black eyes were locked to his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wrote.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wrote more, her finger growing tighter and tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frost giants were taught to actually freeze themself solid when standing guard or on a hunt.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki had taught himself to laugh at authority figures on the inside, where it counted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, she threw down the quill.  “You are refusing to give me any information?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging slightly, Loki’s mouth dipped in a considered frown, “Not so much refusing as ignoring you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave him a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One he did not care for at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When what she said next settled in him, Loki realized two things.  One, if the ceremony was not a success there would be far more trouble for Nye than merely having to give up her dream, that there would be plenty of trouble for him as well.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And two, that if he was to stop that from happening he was going to have to do the whole ceremony by himself, without anyone finding out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was only one way to do that, and the repercussions of it even gave him pause, but looking at the smile on the witch’s face he knew that he would have to face them.  Facing unpleasantness was rather a hobby of his after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That it would wipe that smile away would make it all worthwhile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Loki slammed out of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>personal rooms the door bounced off of the wall, nearly hitting Nye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scowling at her, he made a sharp gesture with one hand, “Come,” he ordered, turning on his heel and stalking off without bothering to see if she followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who do you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not stop to listen to her indignation, and Nye was for the moment less interested in fighting with him and more interested in finding out what had him so angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keeping up with him as his long, strong legs took him down the hall and all of the way out of the building.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even more difficult was following through the heavy snow, which parted before him like courtiers might bow to their king.  And then immediately fell back into the way, so she was still fording - and freezing - whilst he entered the witch’s sacred grove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the center of the circle of oak and ash, elder and alder, hazel and apple, yew and willow, and a massive, ancient elm, Loki had returned to his Jotun form.  The black spires of his horns had sprung up, leaving a few fine drops of blood in his hair and on his lashes.  In the darkening winter evening, his skin and the snow reflecting the sky were the same color and his eyes glowed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stalked in a circle, the snow under his feet turning into a glassy path of ice, “That woman is far, far more canny than I gave her credit for.  My mistake.”  His voice was calm, despite his obvious anger.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did she say?  Does she know that I am -”  Nerves were keeping Nye moderately warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She said that she is certain that your aunt would be shocked at how poor your showing has been,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye sat down in the snow, hard.  “She knows I’m-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki turned and looked at her, “She knows more than I am comfortable with.”  He looked himself up and down and then gave her a significant look.  Nye suddenly felt cold, understanding what the look meant.  “So we are going to do her little ceremony and then I am going to find a more entertaining way to spend my time and the fortune we absconded with.  I’d suggest you do the same, but that is your choice.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounded as if leaving the Hekhus, leaving her, meant less than nothing to him.  But his need to transform, the agitation it implied, told her a different story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to stay,” she answered dully.  There was a strange feeling in her lungs at the idea of Loki being gone.  They had hardly been proper friends during their time together - indeed they had gotten along much better as correspondents than they seemed to in person - but she knew him, and he knew her.  It was less lonely with him around, even if he spent most of his time poncing around like the King of Egoists and trying to get a rise out of her on the rare occasions they were together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanting her attention, where he wanted only admiration from everyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really had no idea how to be a friend as he had never had one, it occurred to her just then.  Perhaps she should find a way to help him with that, which she could not do if he left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still talking, of course, no longer circling in the grove, but rather circling towards her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to worry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>min brud</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I won’t allow them to send you away.”  Reaching down, he took her hand, pulling her up.  Though she knew their marriage bond protected her from the burning ice of his touch it was still a jolt.  Indeed, he felt warm to her, even warmer than he had those few times their hands had brushed whilst he was in Asgardian form.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staring down at their joined hands, she said, “I don’t see how you can stop them. I have no business being here as I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little hissing sound came through his teeth, “You are more than gifted enough.  You will work out what is wrong and you will dazzle the crones and the acolytes alike.  Once the ceremony is complete they will not</span>
  <em>
    <span> think</span>
  </em>
  <span> of asking you to depart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a small yank, he pulled her against him.  She clutched at the front of his black coat, “What are you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cold finger covered her lips.  “I just need one thing from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrapped his free arm about her, gathering her upward, and kissed her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gentle, even tender kiss, his lips thin lips soft and generous, brushing and opening and caressing her own, and the delicate skin inside of them, and then his tongue doing likewise to her.  Tender also in that something about that kiss hurt, ripping open a half-opened wound that she had been trying to ignore for the better part of a year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clutching hard, she pressed against him, unconsciously trying to turn the direction of it towards the more carnal.  That would be easier to bear than the poignancy Loki was stirring in her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was so distracted she completely missed the spell that he whispered into her open mouth, even when she fell into a deep, deep sleep in the midst of it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Building the - Loki hesitated to call it a coffin - the </span>
  <em>
    <span>casket</span>
  </em>
  <span> of ice to hold Nye in was simple enough.  She would be preserved like a treasure in a reliquary until the ceremony was done and he could restore her just in time for them both to be showered in praise and glory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully coiling her braids under her head to act as a pillow, he lay her in the box of ice and then conjured a lid, etched with runes that would keep her perfectly, comfortably asleep until it was removed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, stretching his neck a bit, he did a trick he had not done since they had arrived at VeForet, yet it worked as easily as it ever had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His clone was the perfect image of the Asgardian ‘costume’ he had worn since leaving Jotunheimr, right down to its blandly bored expression.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next spell was if anything even easier.  He had studied Nye far more closely than he had any of the books or classes the witches had to offer, so the illusion that seemingly turned him into her was flawless.  Down to the warm scents of rosemary from her hair and honey from her skin.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have work to do,” he said to himself in Nye’s musical voice, leading the way out of the grove and back to the ‘hus.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Just Like the Good Old Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solstice is celebrated.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that all went quite poorly,” Loki said to himself with a nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having taken his own form back - or rather that of himself as an Asgardian - he stood side by side with his clone on a small ridge looking down on the riverside where the Solstice celebration was taking place.  Identical, they both had a spread-legged stance, one arm across their body, whilst tapping a thumbnail on their philtrum, partly covering matching smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Below them, a scene of delicious chaos played itself out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stands that had been set up for the attendees to get cups of hot, sweet wine, or spiced cakes, had been mostly reduced to kindling, which then appropriately had been set ablaze, helping to offer a clear view of the proceedings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As with any proper, pandemonious event, there were a certain number of people/victims who simply ran about in no particular direction screaming.  Though not especially entertaining to watch themselves, they did offer exactly the right background for the more interesting action, as did those clever enough to find a proper hiding place beneath a bit of festive rubble, or simply play dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that anyone was </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> dead.  When you killed people they couldn’t later spread stories of terror and awe, and for Loki, the endpoint of any good bit of anarchy was the tale-telling later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the acolytes had been herded into a huddle by three riders on horses with iron hooves, snorting fire, and rearing to strike the air threateningly if one of them should try and run.  Though their sobs could not be heard over the rest of the noise Loki could see at least one or two of them hugging and crying upon each other.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two who had tried to make a stand - a charmless fellow named Von and his excessively, theatrically chirpy lady friend Klinna who had once falsely pretended to not laugh at one of Nye’s poor showings in witchcraft - had been wrapped like mummies in ivy vines and then suspended from an oak tree, and were being merrily pelted with pine cones by the bored riders who had been left to stand guard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach </span>
  </em>
  <span>and the more senior members of the coven were at least putting in a good showing of resistance.  She had been quite impressive, her grey mass of kinky curls like a roiling thundercloud above her dark face, arms raised, an improvised staff made from a broken chair leg in one hand, she had faced down the Master of the Hunt, calling on the powers of the earth and wind to drive an enormous icicle through his heart, driving him off of his steed and impaling him against the frozen earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he had been the Master of the actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oskoreien </span>
  </em>
  <span>it wouldn’t have so much as nicked his impervious flesh.  But because that wasn’t very dramatic, and he was one of</span>
  <em>
    <span> Loki’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> illusions, instead he laughed with a rather hearty </span>
  <em>
    <span>ho-ho-ho</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound, pulled the massive chunk of ice from his chest, and threw it back at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach, </span>
  </em>
  <span>who barely had time to gather enough wind to sending it careening harmlessly away into the river.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They glared at each other, and then their fight got really wild.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few of the more quick-witted and less easily cowed of the attendees had run for the tree line, along with some of the visitors and more important people from the nearby town who had been invited to the celebration.  Their retreat was protected by more experienced witches who fruitlessly threw spell after spell at the huntsfolk.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, what the Wild Hunt </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> was for them to run…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cries for help, cruel laughter, and begging, along with brilliant flashes of misfired spells, gleams of steel pulled and brandished, and the warm light from the multicolored bonfires that lined the river for miles all bedecked the cold winter night as gaily as any amounts of holly, juniper, and mistletoe might.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those bonfires are quite lovely as a backdrop.  The colours?  So rich,” Loki nodded to himself.  “Nye was right about them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Though I don’t think this is what she had in mind,” he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmmm…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nye was cold.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Very, very cold.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kind of cold that burned and killed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was rather odd as since her wedding, the cold had supposedly lost the ability to hurt her.  She could still feel it, but no frostbite, no hyperthermia, no chilblains, no fear of freezing to death would affect the spouse of a Jotun.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t like it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Also, for no reason she could think of, she was having a hard time moving around.  Her arms and legs could shift but when she tried to raise them or bend, they seemed to be knocking on something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she was asleep and couldn’t seem to wake up.  She was shuddering with cold and trapped and in a deep, unwakeable sleep and she was supposed to be doing something important that she wasn’t doing and everything was terrible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dream tried to form, to seduce her deeper into her own mind, but she mentally batted it away, impatient with the very idea of dreaming at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, she knew it was Loki’s doing, though she could not recall how or why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to call on the element of fire to heat her surroundings did absolutely no good, nor did calling upon the force of the earth to stir beneath her, or the air to jar her awake, or for water to do anything at all.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course not.  She was a terrible failure as a witch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye pouted in her sleep, hoping no one was around to see it.  Not that she could tell if they were, being asleep and all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, she noticed something about the cold.  It was made up of many, many things.  Not merely air and water, or rather, things that were deeper than air or water.  Things that the air and water were made of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things that moved very, very slowly…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembered the time when after asking her parents for a larger bed for years, as they had not noticed she was no longer a child and did not fit in the one she had, she finally remade the one she had.  Reaching into the idea of the bed she had shoved and pulled and stretched the tiniest parts of the wool layer of the mattress, the wooden frame, the worn, beloved velvet coverlet, and the goose down in her cushions until it was the right size for someone no longer four feet tall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t been terribly comfortable.  The mattress was too thin then, the frame rickety, the coverlet all but see-through, the pillows flat, but it had fit her.  When it collapsed a week later even her parsimonious father had seen fit to purchase a replacement, and her Aunt Frigga, upon hearing about it, had sent her several volumes on the history of magic.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in that stirred memory reached out from her and touched those slowly moving fragments of cold and gently nudged them in some way, as if with the very tip of a finger.  They bounced off of each other, moving a little more quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye was not sure if she was imagining it or not, but it seemed to be ever so slightly warmer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Also, the tiny particles of stuff began to glow in colors, many of which she knew her physical eyes would be unable to see, and as they turned more distinct.  They were, if she mentally squinted, were in patterns that were too close to be made out but were plainly there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nudged again.  They sped up and again, warmth came incrementally, and the patterns turned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nudged again, and again, and again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, the action reached that pitch of battle where only an outside observer could recognise it as the crescendo.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the case of the Wild Hunt that particular Solstice, it was a moment of turning when the outriders had chased down the last of the stragglers who had sought the safety of the trees, trapping them with the others against the brink of the icy river.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach </span>
  </em>
  <span>and two senior members of her inner coven, a dwarf male who had managed to pull metals from the surrounding earth to create a wall that the other witch, an elven child protege who was already a master of wood-witchery at a mere 500, was sniping at the riders, using finger guns to direct massive, flaming arrows of wood from the bonfires at the riders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made lovely, multicoloured arcs through the midnight sky, Loki thought with some satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach </span>
  </em>
  <span>still faced the Master of the Hunt.  Even from the distance, Loki could tell by her increasingly distracted assaults and less tense body lines that something was not right.  That either she or the Master should long since have fallen.  Or at least shown some evidence of real damage to their persons.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her attacks came slower and slower, as she noted that none of the others seemed to be hurt either, and that the older or less hale amongst the guests and witches had been largely left alone - other than having a nice, season-appropriate scare, Loki thought.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, she stopped, letting a bolt of gingerbread scented, red and gold power from the Hunt Master’s brandished whip blast right through her, where it passed doing no harm.  Lifting her arms and noting that she was not so much as singed, he could see her features contort from battle-rage to full, inspired fury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a snarl of her dark russet lips, she bellowed to the skies, “LOKI!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From within the tree line, at the same exact moment, an identical if more melodious and even more furious cry arose, the two of them together cracking through the madness and shouts of the tumult, halting the running and shrieking and even the stomping of the horses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that is our cue,” he said to himself, transforming back into Nye’s form and proceeding himself down the path from their high ground to the chaos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It felt like tears were rolling down Nye’s face.  Large, cold, slushy tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of them landed on her nose, where it was quickly inhaled, leading to a painful choking that woke her, making her slam upright through the weakened rime of the top of the ice coffin Loki had placed her in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“LOKI!!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally it would take a solid twenty minutes even on the good paths through the forest to reach the riverside.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye, her senses finding every tripping root, slapping branch, or obscuring stone by feeling them at a level beneath reality and sending them flying, travelled with hard stomping boots through as the crow flew and made it in three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That she should see herself standing beside Loki as an ever more angry crowd gathered, some of them seeming to be standing inside a circle of horses and riders dressed like the most primitive and ancient version of the Hellequin and his army of riders.  She knew at once that they were Loki’s grand plan for a festive evening, and that they were illusions.  Albeit amazingly powerful ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was even a smell of lathered horseflesh and of old, badly preserved furs coming from the Huntsmen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tugging her black skirts free from a bit of snagging thicket she had missed when distracted by the sight of him, tearing them in her rage-filled desire to get down to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above the sounds of a group of people transforming into a mob she could plainly hear Loki say to the seething </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach, </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I really don’t see what all the fuss is about.  Did you not instruct us to create a truly memorable Solstice?  Deed done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spread his arms, and even though she could only see his narrow back and long hair she could hear the </span>
  <em>
    <span>skitätande flin</span>
  </em>
  <span> on his</span>
  <em>
    <span> rätt så, lögnare </span>
  </em>
  <span>face, Nye thought, reverting to old Vanir in her anger.  The All-Tongue was too polite for how she was feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deed done?  Deed done!” she raged, stomping through the mess of broken, burning buildings, fallen and now rising up witches and guests who were somewhat sheepish to notice that none of them were hurt beyond skinned knees and twinging muscles.  As she passed she reached out and found the pattern within each of Loki’s quite substantial illusions and pushed them apart until they fell into piles of glittering gold and green specks that were picked up by the breeze and flew like sparks upward to disappear into the black sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deed done!” she raged into her own face, somehow knowing that the one that looked like her was her husband and the other an illusion so powerful it had a life of its own.  That one she could not simply make go away.  It uncrossed its arms and slowly clapped in her direction, ignoring the sputters of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>LokiNye cocked her head, frowning, “We are not lovely when we are angry, are we?  Just rather splotchy faced and feral.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft, golden glow caused the illusory Loki to disappear, and the true Loki to return to his own form.  “Better,” he said, straightening his long black coat, and slicking back his long black hair, and smirking down at her with his thin, annoying mouth.  “Well done, </span>
  <em>
    <span>min brud!  </span>
  </em>
  <span>It takes real power to unravel a spell at its base, to not merely break it apart, but to unmake the magic that created it.  I’m impressed.  Don’t do it again, at least not with my spells.  I might bite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so pleased that Nye was fairly certain she was the one that was going to bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach </span>
  </em>
  <span>cleared her throat, “I would say, ‘would someone tell me what is going on here?’ but that would imply there was an answer that would satisfy me.  There is not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Black, shadowless bonds of deepwater pulled from the river shot forth and wrapped themselves around Loki’s wrist, and then lashed itself to one of Nye’s.  The cold of it had no effect on either of them, but the unbreakableness and tightness were irking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or were to Loki, because he said as much, speaking over the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach </span>
  </em>
  <span>as she told them with carefully schooled patience that they would be released after the damage they had caused was repaired, the trees restored, the riverside peaceful and clean, and the people who had been troubled mollified and not before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how many years it might take.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The assembled witches and townsfolk roared their approval, save for a few who all but bayed for their blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until Loki cast an eye towards them, which quelled their enthusiasm utterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Nye, it was infuriating.  “I had NOTHING to do with this … this</span>
  <em>
    <span> madness</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was entirely his doing!  I refused to be shackled to this mad man for a crime I did not commit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your crime,” the elder witch leaned in to whisper, “Princess Nye, is letting your husband run rampant as a goaded bull in springtime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aghast that their secret was so poorly kept, Nye whispered back, “Have you met him?  It takes shackles,” she raised her wrist, dragging Loki’s arm up as well, shaking the chain of water that connected to them, “to even make him slow down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I suggest you find a way, or Prince Loki is going to make your married life very difficult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki frowned, trying and failing to cross his arms, since Nye petulantly refused to give the chain enough slack.  Giving it a good yank, he accidentally pulled her towards him, catching her in his hands, “That is, of course, my plan.  Difficulty for others sustains me,” he added, setting Nye back on her feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough, get started,” the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach </span>
  </em>
  <span>ordered, turning to the crowd.  “Now, if you will join us at the Hekhus, we will tend to any injuries, and perhaps have a cup or five of Solstice cheer as well?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other witches looked not very happy that their work was just beginning, but some grumbling aside made a play at graciousness as they chivied, directed, and otherwise forced their guests towards the school.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning back briefly, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seanchailleach </span>
  </em>
  <span>gave Nye an impatient look, “Additionally, if you knew you were a sorcerer why you chose to waste my time and your own trying to learn witchcraft I can never know.  When you finish your punishment get yourself to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Svartaskóli</span>
  </em>
  <span> on Svartalfheim or maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>Şolomanţă</span>
  </em>
  <span> on Midgard, if you want to learn to control that sort of thing.” The last she said with a contemptuous tone and then was gone with the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye, in a few kinds of shock, looked around at the destruction, as well as the broken trees, the fires dotting here and there, and her bonfires, still bright and merry along the river.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorcery.  Dark, maybe even black magic.  No wonder the witch’s power refused to work for her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How horrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling the fires, she idly collapsed them into slow balls of energy where they burned themselves out.  Otherwise, neither of them made a move.  Finally Loki said, “Er, we aren’t planning on actually fix-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” she replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” The watery chain splashed to the ground, and Loki lifted her wrist, turning it this way and that whilst Nye stared at nothing, the word sorcery repeating itself in her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are unharmed.  Let’s go,” he took that wrist and led her towards the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?  Where are we going?  Our things are at the school,” she tried to dig in her heels, but the cold earth beneath her feet conveniently turned to ice and so she lightly glided along behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stopping at the water’s edge Loki put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, then grinned at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have everything we need.  Do you think me the sort to be unprepared?”  He opened the side of his coat, showing a small, inner pocket that seemed empty.  When Nye pulled it open within gleamed their stolen dowry money, the covers of several leather-bound tomes from the witches library, a large number of garments, and a bottle of wine, which he pulled out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water of the river froze solid, and from a distance, Nye could hear tinkling bells.  In the light from the colorful bonfires she could see a golden sledge approaching on the surface, pulled by two massive elk caparisoned in green velvet.  It was a beautiful thing, Nye could see when it pulled up, grand and simple, with a comfortable looking suede seat, furs to tuck about a rider, and steaming bricks to put icy feet on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki jumped aboard, taking silver reins in one hand and reaching down for her with the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye hesitated.  She should just demand her share of their fund and be gone on her own.  Loki had for whatever reasons of his own had decided they would travel together, but she feared in the long as well as the short run things would never go as she wanted them, and that until he had his way, whatever that might be, he would be nothing but trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, even after he had his way he would be nothing but trouble, she knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” he said, impatient of voice, but refusing to meet her eyes.  “Are you coming or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes narrowed, considering him, “Where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For now? To somewhere where the folk know how to keep the Solstice properly. Later, who can say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding once, Nye took his hand and let herself be pulled up to his side.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had just finished opening the wine when he gave a “Yup,” loosed the reins, and they were off.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hellequin - the French name for the leader of the Wild Hunt, later called Harlequin, a trickster figure.</p><p>skitätande flin - shit-eating grin</p><p>rätt så, lögnare - pretty, lying</p><p>Svartaskóli - The Black School. From the Icelandic legend of Sæmundr fróði, a monk who learned magic from the devil</p><p>Şolomanţă or Scholomance - the fabled black magic school of Transylvania where Dracula supposedly studied.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Longest Night of the Year</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Loki takes Nye to a party</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Legend said that once there were once paths between the Realms wherein the mightiest ancient gods and most gifted of magic-users could stride from one world to another with the same effort that another might use to leave their home and walk across a lane.  In the passing millennia those hidden roads were lost as those who used them died or merely faded into legend, leaving behind no heirs they found worthy of the knowledge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki had found the first of them when he was a child, fleeing his younger, larger siblings who enjoyed ‘playing’ at hunting him for sport.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which, he thought, in a bit of seasonal nicety that was also how he had learned of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oensjaegeren</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  When he had complained of the hunt to their parents, Laufey and Farbauti had laughed and said that he was fortunate it was merely his brothers, and that Odin and his riders would sure enjoy riding across the Bifrost to chase him down on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jól</span>
  </em>
  <span>, since his tininess would make him better sport to winnow out than would a full-sized Jotunn.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been the last time Loki had gone to the King and Queen with a problem, and the first time he had decided to save himself to spite everyone.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thus, finding that first path.  It led to Alfheimr, and a day so hot he also had to shapeshift for the first time to keep from roasting in his icy flesh.  The second path opened on a far world that was part of Vanaheimr, made of ocean, sky, and merfolk, who braided his hair and taught him to breathe water for a time.  There was a mermaid in particular who liked to take him to the depths and kiss him until he was close to fainting, again and again until he had to learn to use his power to extract oxygen from water.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What fun he’d had, growing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In time, he had found so many of the paths, crossing and swooping through the Realms that he thought it was a wonder those ancient gods and poussaint wizards had not collided on more than one occasion, spinning themselves off into the vast spaces between where Nothing with a capital N existed for long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On one of those journeys, he had found the lost world of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Einnhverrstaðr</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The residents, some of whom towered over him at heights even his vast Uncle Ragnr looked tiny beside, others of whom could have easily fit in his pocket if his Jotnar kilt had pockets, and every size between, had made it clear they preferred to remain lost and would regretfully, though utterly, kill him to keep it so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki, looking about him at the strange crowd of intermingled Asgardians, giants, trolls, fae, Vanir, dwarves, even it seemed mortals, and those who were mixed blood of some or all of them, knew they were descendants of those who were outcasts of their kind.  Children of warrior races who had no desire to fight, creatures whose kind toyed with reality and the force of magic as if they were baubles but who themselves had no stomach for recreating the world for a whim, beings whose kind forged weapons that could slay the gods who had more interest in turning their hands to making tools of peace, all together in this lost place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a smile that he did not show, Loki had mentally cracked his knuckles and then spun a tale of equal truth and lie so heartrending, that when combined with his puny size for one of his kind, it left not a few of them weeping for his own pariah state.  After that, they gave him their trust and the freedom of their world.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thus far, he had not betrayed them.  Nor had he brought anyone with him on his visits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at Nye, bundled in furs, sipping from a mug of hot wine, her eyes shining and wide as they traveled through stone and water and space, the elk and sled speeding as if still on ice, he knew that she would respect the secret of their soon to be hosts.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, he thought wryly, that secret was no doubt safer with her than it was with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beautiful green and gold energy that lined the paths glowed in those wide eyes.  That smiling mouth of hers looked ready for a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unthinkingly, Loki took the reins in one hand and reached out to touch her cheek.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could touch her, she turned to him, “I want to learn how to do this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a laugh at himself, Loki pulled his hand back to the reins, “Of course you do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Einnhverrstaðr</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a fairytale.  A story told by parents, filled with peace and fancy, enchantment, kindness, and love, where the Fire Giant lay down with the fairy, and the elf and the dwarf swore eternal friendship, and the Aesir and the Jotnar lay down their arms.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A place as unlike the rest of the Nine as could be imagined, because it was imaginary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It also threw a Hel of a party, Nye thought, as she took another flagon of gluhwein from a naked frost Fae who flew past her on wings of snow, distributing drinks and kisses as she went.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kiss was even sweeter than the wine, Nye thought, taking a drink and letting a Dökkálfar with fiery hair grab her about the waist and swing her into a dance.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had arrived on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Einnhverrstaðr </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the sunset on the Solstice, by good fortune or some design of Loki’s, Nye couldn’t be certain.  For the next day, the entire world would be dark, which should be impossible but then the whole place was impossible so it made a kind of sense, and the austere beauty of the darkness and cold and silence would be met by firelight, music, dancing, eating, storytelling, dancing, gameplaying, drinking, gambling, and ever more dancing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the elk had stopped at the side of a massive, black lake where skaters bearing torches - or simply on fire themselves - had twirled and sped, creating patterns of gold in the darkness, a cheer had gone up from the crowd.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, at least there was one place where Loki was more than tolerated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hopping down first, he had turned and before Nye could stand, grabbed her feet.  “What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking up at her from under a swag of black hair that had come loose from its braid and shaded his now red eyes, he lifted one brow and one corner of his mouth.  “These so practical boots are fine for the Hekhus, but you will need something more for tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, in an act that made her gasp, and her hands flutter up to cover the sound, he oh so barely touched his lips to the toe of each boot, as he transformed back into a full Jotnar, crowned in horns.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leather shuddered under the touch of his lips, and so did Nye.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” he straightened up, slowly wiping his mouth with the back of a limp hand, drawing a long, blue skinned, black nailed finger between his lips to finish, “all better.  Now there is nowhere you cannot go.  But just for tonight.  Can’t have you dancing away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t we going to -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have old acquaintances to visit, and old business to attend to.  And you, my princess sorcerer, need to celebrate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we meet here in the morning, then? After you see your friends?” she asked, trying not to sound as she felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled ruefully, “Acquaintances.  I only have one friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about how he said it made her heart feel as if it had been bent in half.  “But about the mornin-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoy your night, Nye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting her down from the sleigh, Loki’s hands had lingered on her hips, holding her a bit too close, maybe a bit too tight, for just a few moments.  Or she had imagined it.  Then, in a twirl of his black coat he was gone onto the ice.  For a moment she felt bereft, then she walked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping once, then twice, Nye’s feet felt winged.  Nimble, swift, and strong.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, spinning, running, she crossed the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lit candles while poetry was read and sung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feasted on rice balls and pomegranate, walnuts, and cake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bathed in hot springs filled with bright smelling fruit for health, while snow fell on the heads of herself and the other bathers, who drank sweet grain wine and toasted the moon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She joined in a group dressed in gold, climbing high wooden poles and then jumping down, tethered only by a silken rope.  After the poles were burned in a bonfire that turned night to day.  At other stops she watched as clocks, dolls, bundles of flowers, herbs, old clothes, and effigies of animals and people were burned as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a lot of fire everywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And dancing.  So much dancing.  Slow, intricate dances to honor the dead, wild, stomping dances to scare away evil spirits, close, sensual dancing to warm the blood, and elegant, stately dances that gave one plenty of time to flirt.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her feet never got sore.  Her toes never got cold.  Her legs never got tired.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, on the far side of the world, she finished her dance with the elf, who importuned her to stay, but accepted with grace her going, and took what was left of her drink to sit on a chair carved of ice by one of the fires - it burned red, then green, then gold, then purple, and back again, and made her realize she should of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the witch’s bonfires - and wondered if Loki would find her when the sun rose, or if he would take his sleigh and be off.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stretching her legs, she smiled a bit sadly at the fire.  It would like him to do that.  To send her dancing off in the night and then ride away.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several other beings and creatures asked her to dance.  Nye waved them away.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hours yet till sunrise and suddenly she no longer wanted to dance with strangers.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dark whisper tickled her ear, “You really thought I was going to leave you here, didn’t you, of little faith?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dance with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took her hand and waited, she nodded, and they went into the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki danced, as he did everything, rather beautifully and not like anyone else.  He spun her fast, and Nye grasped the fractions of the air so they hovered, and when he pulled her back against his long body, so her head rested beneath his chin they floated slowly downwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you really think I would leave you here?” he asked again, more softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In typical fashion, Loki again did not let her speak, as if he didn’t want to hear the answer to his own question.  Rather, he gently put a hand to her throat, so her head tilted up, and kissed her.  She wrapped herself around him, holding on for dear life as his tongue teased and stroked and flirted with hers, never giving enough, making her pursue, trying to pull closer to him, but never allowing it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she could no longer breathe he smiled against her lips, “There is one very, very traditional way to celebrate the solstice, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nydelig</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you are mixing this up with the vernal equin-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, not letting her finish, Loki had her up in his arms, his own enchanted boots taking them far afield, away from the fires and the noise and the people.  He lay her beneath an ash, it’s limbs covered in leaves made of frost, each iridescent and giving just enough light that Nye could see pillows strewn heavily across the ground, draped in furs, and perfectly dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was this what you were doing while I was dancing?” she said in some wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  This was the work of a few moments, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> went dancing as well until I could wait for you no longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding her head carefully in his hands, Loki kissed her brow, her temple, her hair, as he said, “Can I lay you down here, princess?  Can I love you tonight in quiet, and alone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye couldn’t speak, now that he would let her, so she nodded.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His undressing of her was thorough, and slow enough to tilt on the sadistic, moving easily away from her touch when she tried to undress him in turn, though he did eventually let her slide his jacket off.  She could feel his Jotnar markings under the white lawn shirt he wore, and the only sign he gave of how affected he was by her was to tremble very slightly when she ran her tongue over them through the cloth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stripped her to her boots, which he left in place, running his hands up and down them so the leather stretched and remolded up her calves, over her knees, to brush her thighs, the material stroking her skin like a firm hand.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” she panted, her body flushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged, pushing her back onto a heap of pillows, “I have thought of this for some time,” pushing her legs wide and burying his face between her legs, his claws digging into her boots rather than piercing her skin.  The same maddening tease he had given her mouth he now gave her cunt, never settling on one act long enough to satisfy, to twist and ratchet her higher.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she grasped his horns - burning hot in the cold air so they were wreathed in smoke - the teasing stopped and he fucked her with his mouth, and then his fingers, in earnest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Loki…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Plant your heels on my back and ride my mouth,” he all but begged.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was tearing of cloth as she did as he bade, pumping her hips upwards, abandoned and near hysterical, as the need for her finish wound tighter and tighter.  When he drew her clit between his lips and suckled at the same time the pads of his strong fingers pressed hard, and deep within her, it hit her like a wave, that washed over her, ebbed, and then returned as he continued to play, growling as she felt like she was all but ripping the horns from his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relenting yet giving her no time to rest, Loki reared back, shedding his ruined shirt, and doing no more than loosening his cock from his trousers before falling on her, rubbing his length against her until he was soaked and slid in, deep, slow, and true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Propped on his arms over her, Loki did not move, but looked down at her.  “How many times have I excited myself at the idea of you like this - flushed, panting, disarrayed by pleasure?  More than I should have to have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started to fuck her, with the methodical, mathematical exactness of a man trying to keep himself in check.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It drove Nye mad.  She writhed and wanted beneath him, doing all she could to make him move faster, fuck her harder, anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someday I want you as undone by my hand as I am by yours right now,” she gritted out at him eventually, falling back, worn out and having to take what he gave.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loki froze, his ruby eyes hooded, his thin mouth serious for once, unable to not tell the truth.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dýrr frænda</span>
  </em>
  <span>, do you not know how little it would take for you to make an eager slave of me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, he kissed the words from her, and stopped himself from saying more, and then she twined lazily about him, her hands now more tenderly holding his horns, and moving under him like water, they made love so slowly the heat from the sunrise turned them molten and they came together as the night ended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After, tangled together, Nye put her head upon Loki’s shoulder, so they lay rather as sweethearts might.  “Did you mean what you said?  Rather, what did what you said mean?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to find you a decent place to study sorcery,” he ignored her, as he untwined them, grabbing her dress to toss at her.  “My own magic is rather too… chaotic to serve, and I am a dreadful teacher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nye frowned but did not pursue him.  The things Loki said and did when mating were as ephemeral as bubbles and just as soapy.  “I can find my own school, thank you,” she said, pulling the dress over her head, wondering if her hair could possibly be as tangled as it felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She should cut it off, it wasn’t worth the trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense.  What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t aid my wife in the pursuit of her art?” he asked, shaking his head so his hair fell out of its own mess and into perfect, long waves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The kind who doesn’t get killed by his wife for being a pest?” she answered.  “Can you put my boots back the way you found them?  These are a bit much,” she gestured to her legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned at them, considering, then said, “No.  Now then,” he lifted her coat, holding it for her to slide her arms into, “what do we think of Midgard?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some of the things Nye does on the Solstice are based on various Midgardian solstice traditions from around the world, including Japan, China, Persia, England, and Guatemala, as well as Scandinavia, and the rest of them I made up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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